Disclaimer: I don't own Ducktales!

Title: You Are My Sunshine

Summary: It'd been a hot, sunny day when one of Glomgold's many office buildings collapsed in the middle of a battle between Gizmoduck and Black Heron. A chemist and a robot; which was, in retrospect, a pretty good concept for a movie. Now it's late, and it's raining, and it's just Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera standing outside the remains, holding tightly to the police tape.

Warnings: Background death

...

It'd been a hot, sunny day when one of Glomgold's many office buildings collapsed in the middle of a battle between Gizmoduck and Black Heron. A chemist and a robot; which was, in retrospect, a pretty good concept for a movie. Now it's late, and it's raining, and it's just Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera standing outside the remains, holding tightly to the police tape. He's cold, and he's tired, and he's left wondering why he didn't just show up in his suit. They'd be more willing to give more answers.

Maybe that's why.

Maybe the truth is worse than what he already knows.

Can it even get worse?

Apparently so, Fenton realized, as M'ma turned and walked over to him, face perfectly blank. If she's bothered by the rain, she doesn't let it show, jacket draped lackadaisically across her shoulders. "Mijo, you're soaked. What's Duckburg gonna do if you catch a cold, huh? None of us coppers have propeller hats."

Fenton stuck his hand under his shirt and retrieved Lil' Bulb, glowing as brightly as he could. "I have something to keep me warm." Lil' Bulb's sockets narrowed. "Someone. My bad."

"Is this Gearloose's kid? The one you told me about?"

"One of many." Fenton cleared his throat. "Dr. Gearloose is very passionate about his inventions." The chit-chat felt hollow and unnatural. Sirens still blared in the distance, hitting the rain and dying it red and blue. "M'ma, what's the damage?"

"Chiquito-"

"Answers, M'ma. Please. Cuántos?"

He watched with baited breath as she sighed, fingers reaching up to rub her bill. "I dunno for sure, pollito. We've found four so far, but there's a lot of rubble to go through."

That's it, then. Four dead. More likely. Fenton felt his features go slack. He went to shuffle forward, wanting more than anything to get one of his mom's patented hugs, then remembered the tape and moved back, slipping and sliding on rain and weak knees. Heavy stone hooves touch his shoulders. Fenton relaxed back against Manny; it wasn't the most comfortable situation, but he was sure he wouldn't fall.

M'ma grabbed his hand, intertwining their fingers. "I'm wrapping things up here. We can go home after, okay? I don't want you driving right now. You took a good bump to the head earlier."

That's nothing. Fenton has four funerals he has to go to. He doubted he knew any of them- would stick out like a sore thumb, even, but he had to respect the dead. He had to say he was sorry while he had the chance.

Manny tapped on the sidewalk. Fenton has to strain his ears to make it out over the downpour. "He says he'd like to come with and keep me company."

M'ma raised an eyebrow. "A giant stone horse... wants to keep you company?"

"I have a soul, woman," Manny taps out in his defense. Fenton's too exhausted to even laugh.

First things first; a shower. M'ma all but shoves him into the bathroom, demanding he take the first one. He does so, guiltily, thinking of the people who won't get to shower that night, but then a specific, Gyro-sounding part of his brain is like seriously? Is that your best attempt at making yourself feel bad? Plenty of people won't shower tonight, dead or not. Some people just hate water. And Fenton finishes his shower without further complaint.

Fenton slunk out of the steaming bathroom in just a towel, stopping dead halfway down the hallway. Normally, this would be the part where he would look over his baby pictures and sigh over what has happened; but this isn't a movie, Fenton's always hated his baby photos, and Gyro is standing in his living room.

"Fitting outfit for the occasion," he greeted, hat clutched in his hands. "Would you mind telling your mother not to arrest me?"

"Oh, I have no legal authority to arrest you, gringo," M'ma grumbled, cracking her knuckles. "For now."

"M'ma," Fenton pleaded. "Dr. Gearloose is just here to check the armor. Then he'll be on his way. Right?"

Gyro shoved past him, moving with the air of someone that knew the house as well as Fenton did. He didn't. "We'll see. And put on a shirt, Cabrera."

M'ma grabbed Fenton by the shoulder, lowering her voice. "One mean word, mi cielito, and I'll break his little neck like a twig. You just call for me."

Fenton didn't go into the office for a good hour- Gyro has never been one who liked being interrupted during work. He brought the scientist a coffee and sat down, trying not to look at the suit too much. It was flawless. Hardly a scratch. Four people dead, and he went off scott-free.

Gyro took the coffee and slugged half of it in one go. He set it aside and studied Fenton a moment, eyes squinted suspiciously. "I know that air. That's that air people get when they did something bad. What did you do bad now?"

"Four people are dead, sir."

"Unfortunate. Now, stop diverting the topic and tell me what you did. Was it my pens? Did you forget to put them back in the specific color order I told you?"

Fenton clenched his hands into fists. "I'm a hero. I'm supposed to protect people. And now people are dead." He sighed, long and low. "Isn't that bad enough for you?"

Gyro scowled. "Cabrera, it was a building full of hundreds of employees. Only losing four people is practically a miracle. But it's not. Because miracles don't exist."

He stood up. It probably said a lot that even at his full height he was nowhere near Gyro's. It was like arguing with a tree. "Guess what? Protecting others doesn't magically make others suffering horrible fates okay! I don't know how you don't get that!"

"Now you're just putting words in my bill." It was his turn to stand now, forcing Fenton to crane his neck back. "Of course it's a horrible tragedy. It's terrible. But, from a mathematical perspective-"

"Not everything is math, Gyro!"

Gyro opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. "Are you implying that the very structure of the universe and everything in it can't be put into some form of mathematical quantity? I expected better of you, Cabrera."

Something clicks in Fenton's mind. He doesn't know if it's because he's been scrubbed inside and out with grief, or the awkward thumbs up from Lil' Bulb. "Are you... trying to cheer me up, sir?"

"Trying implies failure, which I am clearly not doing," he sniffed. "I am nailing this. I didn't even need cards. Mr. McDuck will be very proud of my progress in comforting coworkers."

Fenton patted him on the arm, feeling somewhat comforted. Nothing could take back what happened- what he had caused. But it was nice to know people cared enough in spite of that. "You're nailing it, sir. Ten out of ten."

"Ooh, pobrecito," M'ma hummed late into the night, trying to situate a blanket over the napping quartet. Lil' Bulb had curled up on Gyro's lap to recharge, and she was fairly sure throwing cloth over him would be a fire hazard; and Manny was sprawled out sideways, so there was always a hoof or three sticking out. Gyro had moved himself upside down, fluffy tailfeathers sticking out in a surprising show of vulnerability. Only Fenton, curled into a tiny little ball, was sleeping in a slightly normal position. "You shine so bright, everyone notices when you dim."

Author's Note: Heck yeah! I tackled this commission in one night! What can I say; I'm a sucker for angst.

Also, as always; I speak none of the Spanish my dudes. So if my use of it is incorrect in any way, shape, or form, please don't hesitate to correct me! I'm always down to fix any dun goofs!

-Mandaree1